Serenity of the Seas
by Lady of Lake - Town
Summary: All she had to do was become someone and Reaver would help her. That was why Sparrow went to defeat the ghost pirate, Captain Dread, yet soon found herself his prisoner. Now, Reaver is the only one can save her...But will he?


**The first thing I'll say is…DO NOT STEAL MY IDEA. It doesn't matter if you think you could write it better and don't like my version, I'm sure you could make it better but for now, step off! My other idea was taken twice, not to mention I met thieves on other websites. Don't call yourself a writer if you're taking from others, you should instead call yourself lazy, pathetic, a thief and a disgrace to writing. Seriously, you got writer's block? Yeah everyone does, doesn't make you obligated to steal from others! Think this is a good plot? Why thank you, I made it up, not you :) Stealing from others work is the most disgusting thing you can do as a writer, do you want to be a disgusting pathetic loser or do you want to be a good writer?**

**Secondly, hi there :) Sorry for the rant above, my ideas have been taken for the sixth time now and it is just sending me to insanity! I don't want that happening with this idea, I feel confident in it, lol :) Should I be…uh, no, but still. So review your hearts out people!**

**All Fable characters, locations and quest do not belong to me.**

**()()()**

The words drifted into Sparrow's ears with the breeze, making her heart run against her chest.

"_You shall die before getting the Marianne, she is mine!"_

Terror now felt like it was encircling it's arms around her, as she hoisted her master cutlass high and aimed the blade towards the captain. Even though she was trembling, she challenged herself to appear brave and not allow fear enter into her eyes. She couldn't, a monster like Dread found fright soothing for himself. But something kept her from having other emotions, this one remained within her. "You have brought terror and death to everyone," Sparrow heard the words stumble from her quivering lips, "but today, you shall meet yours…"

He approached her and if he had real eyes, they would have met that moment. "The only death today will be yours, the waters will be your grave," his chilling tone threatened.

"Never," she whispered, then lunged herself forth with the blade dancing in the air.

Dread glanced up for his eyes to witness the gleam of a sword descending onto him.

But he was swift, immediately heaving his sword out from behind his back, knowing his blade had conquered many before and it would not fail him yet. After observing it's point that stretched high and its unique pattern on the edges, he hoisted it above his head to shield himself. His grip on the handles was firm, for he knew this intruder revealed knowledge of weaponry after she had defeated his crew during several attempts. But he was not cowering away from battle, he kept himself grounded because he caught the fear erupting in Sparrow.

He gained even more confidence once their blades collided, creating sparks and a piercing sound that rung in both of their ears. It made both lorn proper balance, Dread stumbled back mutable steps, yet was still on his feet. For Sparrow, she was more impaired. The collision stole her vigor, letting her encounter the floorboards of the Marianne and altered a shilling agony that swept across her.

And similar to her strength, her cutlass has also abandon her.

As she descended onto the ground, Sparrow released her grasp on it's handle and it swung to the railing with the air. After taking heed upon her lost, she begun to sit up with the assistance of the main mast and gave a fleeting look straight to see Dread nearing her.

"Embrace death, there is nothing else you can do now, mortal," he muttered, inching towards as his world mixed with the sound of creaking boards.

"I maybe mortal, but I am not like those you have met before, Dread," Sparrow protested. With profoundness taking him, her hand roused with as a sphere of lightning forming in it.

Their eyes both appealed to the light that was the color of blue, but glimmered like they were crystals. Each strain of lightning was the size of a piece of thread, yet they whimbled so close together it was like they were creating one.

And after catching Dread's heed straying from her, Sparrow wailed out to expose her retrieving strength and casted her magic. Her fingers flung it to the pirate captain, with a smile of relief pondering onto her face. Success was stirring in her blood because she knew her command of the will could not be sustained.

Threads of lightening spiraled around every inch of Dread's body, making him wail out in pain.

As her magic prolonged, Sparrow could sense relief and victory building within her.

Dread's defeat was near, soon she could amble back to Bloodstone and Jack and reveal her conquest. And the seas will have security once again.

Yet she boosted too quickly.

Viewing to him for her what she believed to be her final time, she caught a glimpse of him arousing to his feet.

Hope wimmed away, Sparrow was undoubtful of it.

She crept her hand to her side holster, her fingers now in search of the handle of her pistol.

"Did you think your will could kill me!" hissed Dread and begun to inch closer to her, releasing a sully chortle. "I am already dead."

Sparrow could not spare time for talking, he was verging close and protection had faded. As she felt the rumble of his feet, she sprung to her feet. "Get back, filth!" she roared, though she knew her words were meaningless.

"Do not cower away, death is so much more of a pleasure than living." With each step Dread took, Sparrow rebounded back by one. "I know."

"And how do you feel about dying twice? It proves you're weak, because you are, Dread."

He crackled at her statement. "You tremble and stagger from me only shows you define weak."

"No, weak is when you never rest with vile crimes when you're suppose to," remarked Sparrow as she felt her back encounter the front of the Marianne's bowsprit. Knowing she was cornered now, she could feel fright ease and numbness coil her. "And when you kill me, you will make my opinion true."

There was never an expression upon Dread's face, considering he did not have one. His words told his current emotion and she knew his glee, as he exclaimed, "I hope that you enjoy death as much as I do."

**()()()**

The afternoon bustle that lurked in Bloodstone had ceased, for a sully blanket covered the sky. Most citizens had retreated to a haze of smoke, created by the constant lighting of cigars, and not to mention the massive quantity of booze that the inn was serving tonight. As their lips met with the rim of the bottle, aggravation and emotions of daily life wimmed far beyond their mind.

Even Reaver, the most renown resident, had pondered from his mansion. Though he mentally scowled at the sight, he weekly ambled to the tavern and requested the most expensive drink. For tonight, however, the Classy Claret wasn't in desire, the youthful barmaid with golden, cinnamon bun styled hair was.

Though her engorged blemish, forging her forehead could make eyes wander from her, Reaver still had her eligible, considering in his town women were always vile flaw, so he had to alter his standards with it.

And after a swift conversation, they had whisked away to his home and stumbled up the steps to his bedroom.

"You know," she whispered in her squealing tone, as she emerged from beneath the sheets, "I promised Mother to never do this until marriage, but I think even she would allow it."

"Of course, who could resist a man such as myself?" he inquired, engaging barely in communicate for he was too in wonder of what was to come next.

"Oh, Reaver, I was always told you were a bad man…but I don't think you're that bad," chuckled the barmaid while her hand caressed against his chest.

He hoisted his head from the silk pillow and curved his lips out, where he met with hers.

They were impaired and chapped, and it made me him shudder, but he continued none the less. He endured the vile aroma of ale streaming from her breath and into his, which also made him cringe. But for now, he took little heed in it considering they had spared communication and were wandering to something he craved.

Her lips begun to travel down to his neck, with a moaning breath that warmed him.

He could feel them wend downward, to encounter his exposed chest. But he sprung up the moment Reaver felt her remove them and shifted his head to the door.

It's hinges released a shrilling cry as it opening to it's side and revealing a figure being consumed by the shadows of the corridor. "Are you Reaver?" it asked, the tone being a deep pitch.

"Fortunely for her and myself," he replied, adding a swift nod to his barmaid in panic, "I am. Yet a shame for you considering I shot trespassers on sight." Reaver, in seconds, had leaned across his bed and retrieved his Dragonstomper 48, his weapon of choosing that he always kept near. His fingers encircled the handle, firmly, as he roused it outwards to the doorway.

"Do not try it," protested the figure. After his words, a flame erupted in the darkness and the figure was revealed to be an aging male, with skin that had a whimbling pattern of blue lights imprinted on it. And when emerging, both Reaver and his barmaid for the night had eyes still on the sphere of inferno, lite in his palm. "I am looking for my friend who traveled here to find you."

"Really? And you whisked your way through the marshes, to do that? Hm, and a mage," Reaver observed. "Then you must be speaking of that appealing minx who arrived two nights ago, intruding as I posed for my latest sculptor and bellowing about contributing to her vengeance or sparing the world from corruption…blah, blah, so and so on." His gun begun to fall, as did the Mage's ball of flaming will.

"Sparrow was her name."

"Quite an abnormal label for such a person. And what would you be your name?"

"Garth."

"Garth? Well not much of an improvement, but still." Slithering his pistol to it's usual place on the luxury night stand and reaching out for his nylon robe, their conversation continued.

"So you have seen her. Do you know where she went?" inquired Garth was still stationed by the door frame.

As the pirate slide into his robe, over his nude body, he came upon his feet with a creaking sound from the floorboards below. He approached Garth, with a broad smirk appearing on his face and said, "Perhaps. Yet sharing this information is all beneficial to you, though what is in it for me?"

Garth reeled in closer, while taking a glimpse of Reaver's female companion. Tales of Heroes, legends of Old Kingdom weaponry and revenge served to a man with a corrupted heart shouldn't be spoken to those who could not understand it. "I suggest we speak in a more private area," he recommended.

Reaver shot a pore towards the direction of the barmaid, while raising an eyebrow. "Ah, yes, I do agree!" After his smirk widened, he dismissed himself from his chambers and his lass. "Do stay, my dear, this shall only be a moment." And though he weakened as he and Garth begun down the corridor, to know this abnormal mage would be stealing his time to encounter a body only the gods could have created. Yet he went, in desire to hast this conversation.

"Where is Sparrow?" was the first question Garth cared to ask once their arrival to the end of the stairwell.

"If I do recall correctly, your dear minx was pleading for my aid in your revolting business of conquering a Spire. And I must say, it captivated my heed enough for me to actually listen!" Reaver exclaimed as if sharing an amusing story.

"And?"

"I expressed my loath for dealing with nobodies to her and if I recall correctly, she was one of them." The pirate was the first to reach the bottom of the stairs, with the train of his robe crawling across the carpet, behind with the mage. "To prove her renown, she waltz out of here…and I know where she went."

"Where?"

"This leads me back to my previous question, on what is the advantage for me on telling you?"

"Simple, you shall be protected."

"Me? Protection?" Reaver released a broad scoff at the statement, with a miff feeling erupting in him. "There is no need, my dear man, when it comes to protection I am quite secure."

"Sparrow did not tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

Finally their conversation came to a halt, Garth hesisting to speak anymore.

He did not want to spare time telling tales and luring men like Reaver into this quest. The only thing Garth was in thirst of was invading the Spire Tower and having his presence witness blood streaming from Lucien's dead body. And he knew the only way for triumph was to prusway the Hero of Skill. But first he needed to know the story. Garth told him swiftly, giving vague detailing yet explaining it in a way anyone could understand.

"Hmm, so this Lucien prawls the lands for me," Reaver claimed in a gleeful tone. "My, I am honoured."

"He will stop at nothing to find us. We are in fear he has all ready found Sparrow." As the thought stirred in Garth's mind, he caught a glimpse of Reaver's eyes wandering away, which made the mage reel in closer to him. "He hasn't, has he?"

A smile was embedded on Reaver's face, as he urged himself to keep hold of the answer. Instead, he begun to stroll away from the entrance and towards his back room. He never needed to say anything for Garth to trail behind and soon he found himself reclined into comfort on his luxury chair, as the discussion prolonged. "Your dear minx is enthralling creature, physically a warrior, verbally a poet, yet mentally," he explained and pattered his finger at his lips, "she survives recklessly in folly."

Garth sank to his knee until he reached eye – level with him, gazing into his eyes in hope to find the answer. "Where is she?"

"Are you fond of the eerie legend of Captain Dread?" inquired Reaver.

Reeling back, his brow merely roused, as the Mage explained his knowledge. "A pirate captain, deceased now, but his ghost is rumored to roam the seas."

Reaver nodded in agreement.

"And what does this have to do with Sparrow?"

"Though my desire for her to retreat from my humble town was not granted, my men brought back word to me that she lingered in the tavern and sagas of that vile buccaneer. And believing that her actions of hewing Dread would be impressionable on my behalf, she -."

"She went to go kill him."

"Exactly, failed trying though."

"Maybe not."

As Reaver flung his head to the side he was greeted by Garth's eyes, while both exchange pores that differed in expressions. For a pirate, a look, grim, yet painted over by confusion was pondering on his face.

And for Garth, relief, considering he freed the thought of Sparrow kidnapped by Lucien's hands, or dead.

"Her body would have come to shore by now."

"As his vessel left it," chimed the pirate.

"Where did it go?" he questioned,

"Why do you wonder?"

"Because I believe he took Sparrow with him."

**Sorry I went kind of quick at the end! :( But please, still review, favorite or follower or do all three or do none! Well I hope you don't do none, but if that's how you feel! You will just make me cry though, I'm kind of joking! Okay goodbye for now :)**


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